


Better

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, past abusive relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 19:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13619949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladiolus finds Ignis ready for the next step, despite the wounds of the past.





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “I just want a fic where Ignis was previously in an abusive relationship and Gladio has to show him what a REAL relationship is supposed to be like. I'm thinking Ignis's ex saw how much he does for Noctis and got greedy - manipulating Ignis into basically becoming their servant and waiting on them hand and foot. +For Ignis always bottoming and his ex not prepping him enough ++If his ex hits/kicks/otherwise hurts Ignis if he doesn't do a good enough job making them happy ++++++ If Gladio ends up making really tender, gentle love to a very nervous Ignis.” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=7587374#cmt7587374).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s hot and sweaty by the time he makes it home, more than ready to shrug off his jacket. As soon as he’s through the front door of his apartment, he notices the neatly polished shoes set to one side. There’s another jacket hanging from the peg, and it makes Gladiolus smile. After his own thorough sparring session with Noctis, he’d just assumed that Ignis would be at Noctis’ apartment, cooking, cleaning up, maybe even drawing a bath—all those many things that they can’t seem to talk him out of. It shows more _trust_ in Gladiolus that he’s here instead, and Gladiolus treasures that. 

Stripped down to socks, slacks, and a sleeveless shirt, Gladiolus wanders over into the tight kitchen. Ignis spares him a short nod of greeting and turns back to the thick broth he’s working over. Gladiolus spares a moment to just admire the view: both Ignis’ beauty and the beauty of the scene—of a handsome boyfriend making dinner for him. It’s delightfully domestic in their usually touch-and-go lives. When Gladiolus steps into the kitchen, he can’t help but find himself behind Ignis, his larger arms wrapping around Ignis’ slender waist. He places a kiss on Ignis’ lean shoulder and murmurs, “Hey.”

“Sorry. It’ll be ready in a moment,” Ignis replies, as Gladiolus leans forward to press another kiss against his cheek. He turns for the third peck, which lands directly on his lips.

As much as Gladiolus wants to drag him down to the tiled floor right there and thank him _properly_ , Gladiolus knows better than to distract Ignis at the stove. He says instead, “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

If it were Noctis, Ignis would probably make some wry comment about needing to make sure the meals had _real food_ in them. But their relationship is different. It’s _more_ , and Ignis bizarrely apologizes, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to do it yesterday.”

Even though Gladiolus knows the reason Ignis says that, he diverts to a lighter: “Hey, you were taking care of our charge.” He knows, because when he’d gone by yesterday to check with Noctis for a new training schedule, Ignis was there, slaving over everything, as usual. “If anything, you should take more time off to make your own dinners at your place.”

He means it well, but the effect is the exact opposite—Ignis stiffens. The wooden spoon thrust into the pot stalls. Gladiolus corrects, “Of course, you don’t have to be there alone. You’re always welcome here. _Always_. It’s just not... required.” He bumbles in his explanation, knowing he’s doing a poor job, but not knowing how to express it any better.

Ignis quietly announces, “Dinner’s ready.” And Gladiolus begrudgingly lets go of him. 

Stepping back, Gladiolus watches Ignis pour the soup into two bowls, then place them onto larger plates and add a healthy portion of spiced rice to the side. He takes them over to the table without room for Gladiolus to help, and Gladiolus finds forks and spoons already set out there, along with glasses of filled water. Given the low lighting of Gladiolus’ apartment and the smallness of the table, the dinner almost looks romantic, but Gladiolus doesn’t ask to add champagne or anything alcoholic to the mix. He knows Ignis doesn’t like anything that lowers inhibitions, not in a setting like this. He takes a seat and is pleased when Ignis takes the other, rather than pausing to tidy the kitchen or fetch more dishes. 

In the strangely silent atmosphere, Gladiolus tries the soup first. It’s delicious, as is almost everything that Ignis cooks, and the rice is just the same. He eats his fair share before he remembers to pause and compliment, “This is great.”

Without lifting his eyes from his plate, Ignis answers, “Thank you. I’m glad I could be useful.”

Frowning, Gladiolus counters, “You’re _more_ than useful. You do so much for me.” The apartment was already clean, but Gladiolus has no doubt that Ignis tidied up more when he first arrived. He probably put in the laundry. He made dinner, and it’s highly likely he’ll show up in the morning with breakfast, and he’ll load Gladiolus’ chores in with Noctis’ throughout his day, even though Gladiolus never asked for any of that, and it’s hardly his job. When Ignis doesn’t say any more, Gladiolus reaches across the table to set a hand over his. Ignis’ eyes dart to the touch, and Gladiolus adds emphatically, “I don’t want to take advantage.” He pauses, unsure if he should say what he’s thinking, but the air feels heavy anyway, and he needs to be clear. “I... know that your ex did that. That he manipulated you into waiting on him hand and foot. But I don’t want to be like that.”

Finally, Ignis glances up. He offers a thin smile and answers, “I know.” Somehow, Gladiolus isn’t convinced. He can tell that Ignis has something on his mind, and Gladiolus waits until Ignis finally takes a breath and puts down his fork, admitting, “There is... something... that I did quite frequently for him that you haven’t yet asked for.” He hesitates, eyes searching Gladiolus’, as he carefully continues, “I do want to know if I’ve done something wrong, something you find... off putting.”

Gladiolus doesn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

“Are you attracted to me?”

Gladiolus blinks at the blunt question, then blurts, “Hell yeah.” Ignis’ aristocratic cheeks flush beneath his frames, and Gladiolus goes on, “I think you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever set eyes on. I’m sorry if you thought otherwise. I just... didn’t want to push you, or make you uncomfortable after...” He trails off again. There’s no right way to say it. Given how much Ignis’ ex used him, Gladiolus just assumed that the bedroom would be off limits for a considerable time.

But Ignis tells him, “I trust you.” A short pause, and he adds, “Though I would ask that you take particular care in... preparing me.”

For a moment, Gladiolus is silent, self-imposed, because he can feel the anger clawing up in him again, and he doesn’t want to scare Ignis off. Talk of Ignis’ ex often does that to him. When he can trust himself to speak without growling, he promises, “Ignis, I would _never_ hurt you.” And then, when it’s sunk in, “Why do you assume I’m topping, though? If you’re worried about being hurt bottoming...” Ignis’ gaze falls away, and Gladiolus feels sick. “Ignis... you know you’re _allowed_ to top, right?”

The first time Ignis’ mouth opens, it just closes again. It takes him two more tries to manage, “I’ll admit... that is a pleasant surprise to me.” Before Gladiolus can punch a hole in the table, Ignis meets his eyes again. “But on the first time, I’m not sure I have the strength to push through that. I would be grateful if you would do so, and... take charge.” 

Gladiolus has to withdraw his hand from Ignis’. He wants to give Ignis that support, but both his fists curl up beneath the table. He thinks, again, of begging for the name of this ex, so he can find them and make them _pay_ for what they did, but he knows Ignis won’t relinquish it. Ignis says the man is long gone from his life, and that’s what matters. But Gladiolus can still feel the shadows of that past, and he hates to see Ignis cower in it. Finally, he grits out, “Okay. But I’ll take care of you. And you have to tell me if you want me to stop, and I mean any time, even if we’re right in the middle of things.” Ignis nods. Gladiolus has lost all of his appetite.

He shuffles his chair around the little table, until he’s close enough that he can give Ignis a chaste kiss and squeeze Ignis’ knee, promising, “I mean it. I’ll never hurt you.” Ignis nods again, but Gladiolus presses, “I know I can be an intimidating guy, but I’ll never use my muscles against you.” He doesn’t mention that Ignis has a weapon too, because he knows that Ignis would never use it in a relationship, and that’s part of the problem. Gladiolus just wants him to have _peace_.

He murmurs, “I know.”

“I’m not like him.”

“I know, Gladio. If you were, I would still be wearing the bruises from spilling your drink on Tuesday. You’re _nothing_ like him.” 

If anything, that only makes Gladiolus’ chest clench tighter. He wraps his arms around Ignis’ lithe frame, drawing it in for a gentle hug that Ignis melts right into. Even through everything that’s _wrong_ , it always feels _right_ to hold him. It’s warm and intimate, even his bare hands, devoid of his driver’s gloves: a special treat. Gladiolus brushes another kiss over his cheek, and Ignis turns to connect their lips, pressing in for something stronger. One kiss becomes another, and Ignis breathes between them: “ _Please._ ”

It still takes him a moment. He doesn’t want to rush, even though he trusts Ignis’ judgment, and he knows that Ignis is honest with him. They share a slew of languid kisses, until Ignis murmurs, “Gladio—” and then Gladiolus finally obliges. 

He gets up, leaving the rest of their dinner, and slips his hand into Ignis’. They walk together to his bedroom, slightly less pristine than the rest of the apartment—evidently, Ignis hasn’t gone in it without him. He ignores the light switch on the door, instead favoring the lamp on the nightstand. It casts the small room in a dim, orange-yellow glow. 

He takes a seat on the side of the mattress, and as Ignis joins him, he realizes: “Shit, I haven’t got—”

He cuts off as Ignis withdraws both a small tube of lube and a single condom from the pockets of his slimming pants. Gladiolus should’ve known he’d be prepared for anything. Ignis calmly informs him, “I had a feeling you would allow them.”

The thought of Ignis being taken _without_ lube, and having condoms automatically off the table, just fuels his indignation. But Ignis gives him another kiss, like trying to assuage that roaring beast always inside him, and murmurs, “I admit I had to indulge in that purchase soon after we became involved, when you made the need to pleasure myself rather imperative.” Gladiolus isn’t sure if that makes him feel guilty for making Ignis wait, or incredibly turned on by Ignis touching himself to the thought of Gladiolus. Gladiolus gives him another kiss and starts on the buttons of his dress shirt. 

Setting the supplies down between them, Ignis is palpably hesitant, but not as much as Gladiolus feared, and when Gladiolus tries to stop, Ignis pulls his hands back to the next button. So he pops it open. Ignis reaches down to Gladiolus’ waist, fingertips brushing beneath his tank, slowly sliding up, and Ignis even lets out a little moan when he reaches Gladiolus’ chiseled stomach. It makes Gladiolus smirk against Ignis’ lips; it makes all the workouts worth it. When Gladiolus has the final button out, he pulls back to tug his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside. Ignis slowly slips out of his, eyeing Gladiolus the entire time. It makes Gladiolus want to get up and add more light: to see Ignis’ beautiful body in all its pale glory, but the lowered lighting does contribute to the mood, and Gladiolus couldn’t leave the bed if he wanted to. He eyes Ignis just as much, then reaches out to touch the bridge of Ignis’ glasses, wondering if he should set them aside. He withdraws at the last moment, but Ignis seems to understand and plucks them off himself, turning to set them on the nightstand. His eyes are still clear and sharp as they return to Gladiolus, and he’s the one that leans in for the next kiss. 

Gladiolus lets Ignis initiate the next step, too—waits for his hand to fall between them, massaging Gladiolus through his pants, and Gladiolus is already half-hard. It’s hard not to be with Ignis’ mouth on his, Ignis’ taut chest arched into his own. He’d thought they might start with this one day, maybe graduate to hands _inside_ each other’s underwear, work up to mouths, eventually _the rest_ , but Ignis seems like he’s waited long enough. Gladiolus has certainly wanted Ignis long enough. He lets Ignis pull down his own fly, and he reaches over to do the same with Ignis’.

He offers, “We could keep some of our clothes on...”

But Ignis asks, “You’re going to deprive me of this?” and arches pointedly into Gladiolus’ toned chest, hands sliding up Gladiolus’ thighs. 

Gladiolus can only return, “Whatever you want, Iggy.” His voice is already husky. It’s a struggle not to rip Ignis’ pants right off and grind him down into the bed, smother him with _love_ and bury him in lust. He’s quivering lightly, like he understands and wants it too.

He slides his long fingers down the sides of Gladiolus pants, bypassing his briefs, and Gladiolus helps do the rest, pushing them down. Ignis pauses their steady train of kisses to look between them, eyes tracing Gladiolus’ cock. He knows it’s big. It’s as heavy and oversized as the rest of him, but Ignis doesn’t look intimidated. Gladiolus can’t quite tell what Ignis is feeling. But Ignis lifts up on his knees and pushes his pants down too, boxers going with them, and shimmies right out of them, letting them slide over the edge and to the floor. Gladiolus stares at Ignis in return—his long, rod-straight shaft, and how hard it already is, jutting straight up towards Gladiolus. He thinks of ducking down and taking it into his mouth, worshipping Ignis as he deserves, but that’s not what Ignis asked for. Not tonight. So Gladiolus just pushes out of his pants too and lets his eyes roam. 

Ignis moves a little closer to the middle of the bed and asks, “How do you want me?”

“How do you want _me_?” It feels childish to say. But Ignis smiles dryly and starts rolling down the blankets before climbing beneath them and lying down across the bed, sprawled out on his back, head cushioned on the pillow. Gladiolus follows, scrunching the blankets further back and climbing between Ignis legs. Before he can search for their supplies, Ignis is fetching them with ease and presenting them up to Gladiolus. Gladiolus gingerly takes them and insists, “Tell me when to stop.”

Ignis corrects, “If.” Gladiolus nods. He hopes it’s that. But he needs Ignis to know it doesn’t have to be. 

Ignis’ body is something that Gladiolus has fantasized about an embarrassing number of times, even before he finally cracked and asked Ignis out. He spends a few moments just admiring it at first, then reaching down to trace his hands over it, eyes always flickering back up to judge Ignis’ expression, but Ignis gives him no indication of needing a break. If anything, Ignis is hyper-responsive, rising into every touch and spilling small but wholly tempting noises. Gladiolus traces his inner thighs and wonders if he has any clue how alluring he is. How endearing. How long Gladiolus would’ve waited for him. Then he lifts his legs and begs, “Please.”

As Gladiolus withdraws to tear open the condom’s wrapper, he realizes that it’s _him_ that’s somewhat nervous. It’s not like he’s a virgin—not even close—and he knows that Ignis isn’t either—but he’ll _break_ if he hurts Ignis. As he rolls down the condom, he scolds himself—he needs to be steady, strong: Ignis’ rock. And he can be that. He knows that he can be good to Ignis. He can show what a _real_ relationship is meant to be like. Ignis watches him roll the condom down, and that heated gaze does help bolster his confidence. He knows that Ignis _wants him._

But he knows that Ignis must be far more nervous, and he’s careful of that. He drizzles a liberal amount of the lube into his palm, nearly finishing off the tube, and places it next to Ignis’ hip for safekeeping. He’ll use even more if he needs to. He’d rather ruin all his sheets with a pool of overused lube than take Ignis too dry. He slicks up two fingers before he dares bring them between Ignis’ legs, and Ignis’ breath hitches as soon as they’re touching.

Ignis’ murmurs, “It’s a tad... chilly...” but Gladiolus doesn’t think that’s the entire reason for his reaction. Still, Gladiolus moves. He draws both digits down below Ignis’ tight sac, pressing into Ignis’ crack, and when he runs over Ignis’ puckered hole, Ignis tenses again. Gladiolus’ gaze wrenches off of Ignis’ ass, but even though Ignis’ eyes are scrunched closed, he says, “Please. Keep going.” So Gladiolus obeys, like Ignis always does. 

The view is spectacular, but worry over Ignis somewhat diminishes the enjoyment. Only a little bit. Enough that, for once, he isn’t reduced to humping the mattress while he waits to get inside, despite the handsome man all laid out before him. He pets Ignis’ tiny entrance until he’s confident it can take his meaty fingers, and then he pokes one in, just the tip, and listens to Ignis’ gasp. He feeds more in at a snail’s pace.

He watches Ignis’ face the entire time. Time ticks way as he prepares Ignis’ entrance with one finger, then another, up to three, knuckle deep, though it takes a small eternity to get there, and every time he tries to stop, Ignis asks for _more_. So he gives it. He stretches Ignis open and wets Ignis up, until Ignis is gritting his teeth and hissing, “Gladio, _please_ —” And it looks like he might break if he doesn’t get more. Gladiolus pauses to bend over him, placing a chaste kiss against his forehead, and tries not to fret over how much Ignis is trembling. Ignis even reaches up to grab his bicep, squeezing in need. Gladiolus kisses his fingers.

Then Gladiolus rises up again and takes himself in hand, palm still slick with lube, and presses at the entrance. Ignis’ head tosses back. Ignis cries out at the first pop inside. He clenches down and drops both hands to fist the sheets, and he repeats, “Please.” It’s become a heartbreaking mantra that Gladiolus can’t pull away from. So he obliges, sinking just a little deeper, just a small bit at a time. 

By the time he’s fully seated, he’s rock-hard, and Ignis’ cock is jutting just as proudly off his stomach. But Ignis is shaking, so Gladiolus waits for Ignis to adjust, until Ignis’ hazy eyes flicker up to his, and that single word is clear across them. Gladiolus rolls his hips in. Ignis hisses, clenches, and lifts up to pull Gladiolus down.

Gladiolus cocoons around him. Gladiolus squeezes between them to take hold of Ignis’ cock. The other arm holds himself up just enough to protect Ignis from his weight, hand bent to tangle in Ignis’ hair, and he starts to take Ignis in slow, rhythmic thrusts that have Ignis shaking all around him. It’s the softest Gladiolus has ever been in bed. He’s had dozens of daydreams of _fucking Ignis hard_ , but for their first time, for this, he _makes love_ to Ignis as tenderly as he can. He can feel the tension still taut beneath Ignis’ warm skin, and he wants to feel it slip away.

Ignis is gloriously tight. His channel’s stifling hot, and it feels so dizzyingly _good_ , but better than that is Ignis’ perfect face pressed against his own. Their connection intensifies everything. It’s not about how amazing it feels to be inside Ignis, but how amazing he can make Ignis feel. He’s mindful of his angles and conscious of his grip on Ignis’ shaft. He nudges Ignis’ cheek with his nose and turns Ignis for a heartfelt kiss, one Ignis eagerly returns. 

They’re like that for some time, longer than Gladiolus would’ve thought for their first time, but still not long enough. They roll together in smooth, sensual waves, and when Gladiolus feels himself nearing the edge, he holds himself back. He wants Ignis to come first. He needs to know that Ignis is taken care of. He pours his all into Ignis, until Ignis breaks with a languid cry against Gladiolus’ mouth, cock spurting over Gladiolus’ hand. Gladiolus pumps it out, and watching the expression on Ignis’ face, feeling Ignis’ channel spasm around him, tugs Gladiolus to his own end. He spills inside the condom and rocks it out, still pumping Ignis and muttering some garbled form of Ignis’ name. Ignis’ fingers dig tightly into his back. Gladiolus lets them, would still let them even if they were drawing blood. He’s overwhelmed. 

When he’s finished, he leaves it, still hovering there as he pants and tries to process. Ignis still clings to him. Their kisses have stopped, but their sweat-slicked foreheads still press together. Then Gladiolus gradually pulls out, and Ignis moans.

Spent, Gladiolus lies down next to him along the bed. Ignis looks particularly beautiful, flushed from pleasure and glistening with sweat, his body so uncharacteristically relaxed. The corners of his eyes look wet, but Gladiolus doesn’t ask. Ignis spends a long moment just breathing hard. 

Then he tries to push off the bed, murmuring, “I’ll take care of the dishes.”

Gladiolus has to reach and gently pull him back down, ordering, “No, you don’t. You’ll _rest_ , and I’ll do the dishes, and clean us up, and take care of you.”

Ignis grins but looks too tired to laugh like he wants. He lies back down where Gladiolus puts him. Gladiolus is tempted to let the food and dishes both rot; he could lie with Ignis for just about forever.

Ignis sighs for him, “Stay with me a little first.” 

So Gladiolus nods, kisses him, and does.


End file.
